The Dragon's smile
by Ashrial
Summary: The dragon has many faces, many aspects, be it fearsome beast, wise ancient, or keen eyed serpent. To a seven year old Mai’s eye, each of these aspects is embodied in the royal family of those who wield the dragon’s flame.


Summary: The dragon has many faces, many aspects, be it fearsome beast, wise ancient, or keen eyed serpent. To a seven year old Mai's eye, each of these aspects is embodied in the royal family of those who wield the dragon's flame.

Disclaimer: don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

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The palace of the Firelord is the biggest thing a seven year old Mai has ever seen, its high towers seeming to reach for the sky like tongues of flame, the wings of the palace sprawling outwards forever, encompassing the width of her vision, the red walls shivering in the summer heat. The whole palace seems like an enormous dragon, ready to pull itself out of the earth and fly at any moment. It is the most majestic thing Mai has ever seen and she can't wait to step inside it.

Her excitement is short lived. She soon realizes that no matter how majestic it is, in the end it is only a building, and if it is a dragon it must be a sleeping one, lying cold in its deep slumber.

The fire nation nobles that inhabit the palace believe themselves to be dragons, their every casual and arrogant movement proclaiming this belief to the world. They stride the palace's red and orange halls, with smiles that are more smug than content, the expression shifting towards one of superiority whenever they catch sight of her, no hint of kindness or pity on their faces. She is so tired of her parent's veiled pity and disappointment that she is glad of this last, though she knows what it means; that given the chance they will destroy her. There is no place for pity in the fire nation; the weak are consumed by the strong, just as flame consumed all in its path.

It is at the third court dinner that she attends that she sees the true dragons of this place. She hadn't wanted to go to the dinner. They were tedious affairs full of veiled insults and political maneuvering that Mai might have found the interesting if it weren't for the pointlessness of it all. She'd said as much to her mother, but her mother had only smiled her smile that allowed no objections and told her in a voice that was honeyed and firm that it would improper not for her not to attend, that it would hurt her father's future if she didn't, and that Mai didn't want to do that now did she? Mai nods, and slips the mask of a smile across her face. Decorum was important her mother had told her when they first arrived at the palace, and a lady's smile should only tell the world (the rest of the court) what she wanted it to. She must be the master of her expression, and not the other way around.

The true dragons are seated at the head of the banquet hall, on a pedestal of gold and crimson, sitting on chairs encrusted with jewels that glitter in the yellow light cast by the flames swirling and crackling around them. The only common attribute among them is their yellow-gold eyes, eyes that belong to creatures clothed in scales, not silk, but the fire in their hearts denies this comparison, assuring Mai that the difference is negligible. They are each dragons in their own right, though each a different face to that awesome beast.

The one that sits in the center throne is the oldest, if not the most dangerous. He is weathered and scarred and now rules only by the power he once had and the arrogance that he still does.

On his right sits his first born, a male in his prime, hair pulled back in a warrior's topknot. He is smiling widely, and the expression suits him. It is the wide smile of a predator content after a full meal, benevolent to those that have not crossed him, and a warning to those that would. He knows he is the strongest here and that the throne will be his soon. Others at court know it too, for dragon is in the name he has taken. He is strong and powerful and his smile can afford to show benevolence. The expression slides into something almost resembling kindness when he turns it to the figure seated on his right.

This one looks much like his father, same wide smile, same handsome face. His smile too shows benevolence to those it encompasses, but has none of the easy power of his fathers. He has not yet fought for dominance in this world, and falsely assumes that he does not have to. He is benevolent without realizing its price, and though he has power and strength, he has no killer instinct, no well of savagery to pull off in times of need, and Mai knows this will be his eventual undoing.

Seated on the left of the oldest dragon, the weathered one, is his second born. He looks only a little like his brother, and his smile exemplifies this. Where his brother's is wide and easy, his is thin and narrow and brings with it the promise of pain. It is the expression a predator about to pounce on its prey, a slight opening of the mouth in anticipation, the corners of it pulled back, pointed porcelain white teeth barely glimpsed. He knows that below the pedestal lie a pit of vipers, and that only because he is a dragon is he not among them. He does not fear them though, because he is a dragon and they are not and even a hundred vipers are not enough to bring down the might of a single dragon.

Next to him sits not his first born, but the one he wishes was. Her smile mirrors her fathers, but holds a calculating look to it. She is just a hatchling, and has none of the power of a full grown dragon. Yet. She is not wary of the pit of vipers though, because while the dragon's flame is not yet hers, its wits are, and those are enough for now. The smirk turning the corners of her sharp face say as much to those that can see, though those a few enough. To most eyes it is the simple expression of a small child. This is what she wants, and plays it for all its worth. She has no use for fear or respect yet, and is thus content to let them think what they will. Her gaze crosses Mai's and the deep pits of golden flame that are her eyes seem to dance with laughter. She knows that Mai sees her for what she is, but also knows that Mai recognizes her for what she will become.

One step down from her sits her brother, eldest born and exiled to the farthest down the rung. He has no smile, only the vague scowl of one that knows he has been insulted but cannot think how to respond. It carries none of the subtle cunning of his sisters or the quiet lethality of his father's, or even the raw power of his uncle. He is a young dragon, with too long limbs that make him clumsy and wings that seem only good for weighing him down, but he is a dragon nonetheless. The scowl he directs at the room it is not tempered: it is honest. And that is what makes Mai's gaze linger on him long after it should have moved on.

Her mother's light fingers close around Mai's upper arm and her soft voice breathes into Mai's ear, telling her in an even voice while she steers her away that that was the royal family and it is rude to stare. Mai nods slowly and swallows the muttered apology that she was instinctively about to utter. She turns back to the vipers slithering around her in their soft silks, and lifts the smile off the hook on her face, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. The expression that rises to fill its place is contempt and boredom and disgust all rolled into one. It is not an expression a seven year old should have, and certainly not one a young lady should have, but it is Mai's, and that is enough.

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End file.
